Breaking the Bonds
by chosenofmarkov
Summary: Sorin Markov refuses to sit back idly and watch Innistrad fall from his grandfather's indolence, but his options are few. He finds hope in the form of Avacyn, a human who valiantly fights against the vampiric hordes. With their time running low and their hearts growing fonder, can their combined powers bring peace to the plane—and to each other? (Sorin/Avacyn, Jace/Liliana)
1. Chapter 1

This was a place he had long ago deemed unnecessary; a home for a vagabond.

Yet once again he found himself here. He never could escape the place for good. Sometimes it took him months to return. Others it was years, even decades. No matter the length of time it took, in the end, his bonds always drew him back to Innistrad.

Sorin's boot heels clicked lightly as he made his way down the familiar hallway. Surely it wasn't so long ago when his feet were bare and he carried a sword of wood rather than one of metal. There were some memories that even time could not steal from him, like the sound of his mother's voice and the brightness of her smile. He could remember the succulent smell of herb-basted boar as it drifted through the corridors, and the explode-in-your-mouth sweetness of the fruity pastries his grandmother stuffed him full of before the famine struck.

Now Markov Manor reeked of blood and sex, pleasures that had once sated him but had slowly lost their allure.

The smell flirted with his nostrils but he waved it off easily. He used as much effort to shove open the heavy doors leading into the banquet hall. Human bodies lay scattered across the marble floor, the lucky ones with their color drained, faces forever twisted in silent horror. There were others, though, that lived still: unfortunate whelps used as playthings by the most sadistic of Sorin's kin. Their weak moans barely had the strength to meet even his sensitive ears.

He shouldered his way through the decadently dressed vampires that stood around mingling. Most of them were clad in expensive-looking leathers and silks, blood-filled glasses dangling from their pale hands. It was exactly this wastefulness that made Sorin's stomach knot. Not even his eyes acknowledged them as they spoke of his name in hushed tones. They were savage. Infantile. Beneath him like the ground under his feet. He sought counsel with only one in this room.

And he found him exactly where he expected.

Edgar Markov was sprawled on a couch, flanked on any side by a number of vampiric women in varying stages of undress—mostly the later ones. Between his slender fingers dangled a chalice overflowing with red, a goblet he nearly spilled over one of his suitor's chests when he saw Sorin standing there.

"Grandfather," he greeted him with a slight bow of his head.

"Sorin," Edgar breathed, his half-lidded eyes suddenly open wide. He idly batted away the woman that still sucked at his throat and righted himself. "You've come back."

"Not for long."

"It never is."

Silence hung in the air for a half moment, then both of their stoic expressions folded to smiles. Not a soul who saw them together could doubt the favor Edgar held for his only grandson.

He had treated him as his miniature from birth, the perfect heir born to his imperfect son. Their hair was the same long, white gold. Sorin kept his pulled back in a loose tail, not a single strand without its place. Edgar normally would have taken as much care, but the prior hour's activities had left his entirely disheveled. They shared similar facial features: their jaws sharp and prevalent, their lips following the same mischievous curve. Even their eyes had once been identical shades of chocolate, but now Edgar's were colored as red as the blood that trickled from his lip, and Sorin's a startling gold-on-black combination.

They differed mostly in build: both tall, but Sorin broad and muscled compared to his wiry grandfather. That was not to say that the elder Markov wasn't powerful in his own right—to believe otherwise would be an understatement of tragic proportions.

Edgar pushed himself up off of the sofa and with few steps closed off the empty space between himself and his grandson. He wreathed his arms around Sorin's shoulders and embraced him, a gesture that the younger lightly returned. "What are you doing home?" he asked, pulling back enough to catch Sorin's eyes.

His smile leveled into something more solemn. "Surely you didn't think your recklessness would go unanswered. Things are changing here, grandfather. And it's not for the better."

An annoyed grimace crossed Edgar's lips. "What are you talking about?"

"Innistrad's balance has been disturbed," Sorin said. "The human population is dwindling while our kind run rampant. You need to control them."

Edgar sighed. "I am afraid your 'travels'—" he lingered on the word, his tongue shaded with disdain. One of Sorin's eyebrows formed a high arch. "—have softened you."

"No. They have strengthened me."

Sorin's fingers flexed lightly and suddenly, the air in the room grew impossibly tight. Every other being in the room froze mid-gesture as his magic seized them, snatching the very blood in their veins and using it to cement them to that moment in time.

He tramped past his grandfather, his black cloak barely skimming the floor as he strode to the picture window on the other side of the room. He folded his arms solemnly as he gazed over his home province. The gray sky that hung over Stensia cast a dark stain where green pastures once flourished with color and life. Now, the once-full trees were skeletal remnants of their former majesty, the fields barren and dry.

"I have seen entire civilizations fall to less than this, grandfather," Sorin murmured as he looked over his homeland, displeasure mingling with the usual confidence of his gold eyes. "Entire planes leveled to mere dust. The same will happen here if you don't do something to restore the balance."

"Exactly what is it that you fear?" Edgar asked, crossing the sprawling room to join his grandfather at the window.

"Vampires are killing humans faster than they can multiply, and for what?" Sorin gestured to the human bodies strewn across the floor like ragdolls, wasted blood staining the places where they lay crumpled. "We don't need this extravagance to survive."

"We don't," Edgar agreed as he idly swished the blood around in his goblet. A wicked smile crossed his red-stained lips. "But it certainly makes life more exciting."

"What does excitement matter if you are all dead?" Sorin snapped. "This behavior will drive our kind to extinction."

Edgar chuckled, raising his chalice to his red-stained lips and taking a deep drink. "There is no threat of it. You need to relax, Sorin," he paused, extending the goblet in offering to the younger Markov. "Relish the gift I gave you as you once did, when our race was in its infancy and you stayed at my side."

"I don't relish the destruction of my home," Sorin shot back, turning his head from the cup and its seductive drink.

Edgar mulled his next words carefully. He downed what blood remained in his grail and let the vessel fall limply at his side. "You haven't grown fond of the humans, have you?"

"Of course not," Sorin scoffed. "They are a food source and nothing more. But without them, our kind cannot thrive forever. What will happen to your people when there are no humans left to feed from? What will happen to you?" He turned and faced his grandfather, his amber eyes steadfast on Edgar's crimson ones. "They will turn on each other. On you. Everything, everyone will die. Nothing will remain of Innistrad but the spirits born of our own mistakes."

"Enough of this foolishness," Edgar snarled, "Enough of this paranoia! We have flourished for hundreds of years, Sorin, and we will continue for thousands more!"

Sorin's fingers curled around the window-sill with such force that the wood crackled beneath his strength. "The only fool here is you," he hissed underneath his breath. Black mana leaked from his fingertips and spiraled into the air as dark wisps of excess power as his blood magic rescinded. Life returned to the room as quickly as he had stolen it away.

Perhaps _he_ was the fool, thinking this conversation would end any differently. Sorin released his grip on the ledge and turned away angrily, his cloak streaming behind him in an annoyed flurry.

"Sorin," Edgar sighed, though he made further motion to chase after his headstrong grandson. "Must you leave every time your way is not immediately given to you?"

Sorin did not slow his pace nor turn back to his grandfather. "I have nothing here worth staying for."

"She misses you," Edgar called across the room loudly, purposefully, so it heralded the notice of more than a few of the vampires that stood around conversing. "She speaks of you often, even after the centuries you've robbed from her."

Sorin lingered in the doorway, his breath held, the words ringing in his ears as if he had just taken a blow to the head. A long second passed before he spoke in a strangely soft voice, "I hold no favor for Olivia, grandfather."

"You did, once."

"You twist my lust with caring."

Edgar smiled. "Were you not the one who placed the ring on her finger?"

"We are done."

Whether he was talking about his conversation with his grandfather or his relationship with Olivia Voldaren, even Sorin wasn't completely sure. The only things that registered in his mind were the feel of the heavy entry doors as he threw them open, the clattering sound they made as they closed shut behind him, and the quiet chaos of the Blind Eternities as he 'walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: I just wanted to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and favorited so far! I cannot properly express what all of your actions and words mean to me. I have been so nervous to post here for so terribly long, and your support means the world. I truly hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I do writing it!_

**Thraben, Innistrad**

Thalia Blair flew down the staircase in a flurry of footsteps, her boots barely touching the ground as she made her way downstairs. She simply leapt the remaining distance when she neared the bottom, landing easily on her feet.

"Avacyn!" She spun around, her hair whipping around her in a lightly colored flurry. "You're getting old! Come on!"

"Mind who you're calling 'old,' little sister," Avacyn shot back with serious intent, but her voice was high with laughter. She navigated the stairs at a much slower pace, taking care not to trip over the fluffy cat that perfectly wove itself between her legs as she walked.

Six years separated the Blair girls, though the more they aged, the less significant the gap seemed. Now in their adulthood, they could almost pass for twins. Their hair was the same white shade of blonde, startling in its intensity. Their faces were similar in both structure and expression, and even now the same goofy, oversized smile stretched across their lips.

The few differences between them were trivial at best: Thalia was lighter in frame, Avacyn in complexion. The older sister bore their mother's deep emerald eyes, while the younger shared their father's light blue ones.

And one of them was very, very impatient.

"Took you long enough," Thalia chided, narrowly dodging a swat by her sister's hand.

"Remember who your commanding officer is, runt," Avacyn couldn't help laughing at the ridiculous way Thalia scrunched her face.

These were the moments that gave her pause. How could this grown woman be her baby sister? How could she already be of age and serving in the Thraben guard? Even now, no matter how high she carried herself, she could catch glimpses of the little toddler that used to sneak into her bed at night for protection. She still had her innocence. It was there in her eyes, married with determination. It was in her laugh, her smile, the way her childhood nickname still made her face wrinkle in annoyance.

It was something Avacyn prayed her time in the guard would not steal from her.

"Avacyn? Avacyn!" Thalia's voice roused her from her thoughts.

"Sorry," Avacyn offered sheepishly. She gathered her long hair in her hands and fastened it into a bun, shunning the snowy strands from her vision line. Her fingers skimmed her belt, silently counting the weapons tucked there: a wooden stake, a silver-tipped dagger, and a few other knives of varying length. She preferred magic over arms—years of training had left her well-acquainted with white mana—but her blades had their uses still. When she confirmed that everything was in its place, she faced her sister. "Ready?"

She responded not with words, but actions. Thalia bolted out the front door with all the enthusiasm of a child about to open her birthday presents.

Avacyn smiled to herself. It _was _a big day, after all. Today, years of hard work would coalesce into one momentous unveiling. Today, the Walls of Thraben would be christened, and a new feeling of sanctuary would awash their home.

There had been city walls before, sure, but they had long ago crumbled and lost their effectiveness. These ones were different: an intricate system of bulwarks and defense lines. Most impressive of them all was the outer wall, Thraben's main defense and the wall to which Avacyn and her regiment were assigned. It ringed the perimeter of the city in heavy stone blocks, offering the people of Thraben their best chance against the vampires, werewolves, zombies, and other fiends that ravaged the provinces of Innistrad.

"Avacyn. Do you have a moment?"

She had just started to twist the door handle open when his voice caught her off-guard. Avacyn pulled the door shut and turned to meet her father with a smile, an expression that buckled when it caught the grimness of his.

"Of course, papa."

He motioned for her and she followed him into their dining room. It was a small space with a fireplace and an old wooden table with four chairs situated around it. Only three of them were used now, but Avacyn thought seeing the fourth one empty was easier than not seeing it at all.

Mikaeus Blair eased himself into his usual place at the table, his gaze lingering on that fourth seat for a second longer than it normally did. Even in his later years, he had kept his health and his vivacity. It was his mind that bore the deepest scars, his eyes that carried the heaviest burdens. Some days were better than others, and Avacyn could tell already that today would not be one of them.

"Papa?" She lightly touched her father's hand as she claimed her space beside him. The contact stirred him from his momentary reverie and he forced a smile that Avacyn saw right through. "Papa, what's the matter?"

Mikaeus hesitated, mulling his words. "I am worried about you and Thalia," he said finally, watching his oldest daughter's face furrow in confusion. "You have been filling her with false ideals of hope, Avacyn, just like when you were children after your mother…"

His words trailed off awkwardly, and Avacyn chewed her lip.

"You were the one who told me those stories," she reminded her father softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "You were the one who told me about the angels who used to walk among the humans and protect them. You were the one who told me they would come back."

"I was wrong," Mikaeus whispered, gripping his daughter's hand back. "They're not here. I'm not sure they ever were."

Avacyn frowned. Her father had always been a man of faith. He raised her and Thalia on stories of good in times of evil, on tales of great, winged angels that would descend from heaven above and fight the wickedness away. His devotion once inspired the city. Now it served as a grim reminder of how hopeless the people had become.

"You don't have to worry about us, papa. I promise," Avacyn murmured, rubbing her thumb over the back of her father's hand. "You should come with us and see the new wall. We are finally going to be safe."

"There is no safety here, not anymore. The wall may slow them down, but it won't stop them."

"That's why we have the guard to—"

"A guard that would see my daughters on the frontlines!" Mikaeus said sharply. An impossibly long moment passed before he spoke again, his voice lower this time. "You don't have to do this, Avacyn. You could have married by now. I know how you long to be a mother."

"And I will be when my job is done," Avacyn said, her voice strong with pride. "The cause I fight for goes beyond my generation, papa. I am fighting for my children and theirs. I am fighting for Thraben now, and for the future. I can't stop now."

"You and Thalia are all I have left," Mikaeus whispered. He wrested his hand from Avacyn's and brought it to the side of her face. He cupped her cheek and couldn't stop the soft smile that pulled at his mouth. The gravity of the situation scarcely mattered. She was still his little girl, no matter how old or stubborn she grew. His angel, never mind the horns he was sure she was hiding somewhere. "I want you both to experience the very best that life has to offer while you still can."

Avacyn smiled, turning her face so that it was further nestled in his palm. She brought her newly-freed hand to his wrist and clasped it tight. "Someday we will. Have faith, papa, like you used to. It doesn't have to be in the wall, or the guard, or the angels. Have faith in _us_."

Mikaeus shook his head softly. There was no winning against her. "I suppose I can try."

"We aren't exactly giving you a choice otherwise," Avacyn teased, a smirk tweaking the corners of her lips.

Her father couldn't help but smile back at her. "You wouldn't be my girl if you did," he murmured. The hand he held at her cheek slipped behind her head and he pulled her close, gently kissing her forehead. "Just be careful."

"AVACYN!" Thalia's voice shattered the momentary silence that had settled between them. "Avacyn, we have to go! Come on!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Avacyn called, laughing softly as she rose to her full height. "I love you, papa. We'll be home soon."

Mikaeus watched her walk away and let out a long sigh as she disappeared around the corner. He heard her footsteps join along with her sister's, heard the sounds of their voices blending together as one as his mind began to blur with a hurricane of emotions. He blinked once, then twice, and his eyes flickered between the chairs: the one Avacyn had just stood up from, the one Thalia would occupy later tonight, and the empty one that his wife had long ago sat in, cradling their girls in her arms.

He blinked again, slower this time, scorning the tears that burned at his eyes. "I love you too, my angel."


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Once again, I just want to thank everyone for their incredible support! You guys and your encouraging words mean the world to me. I love reading your reviews. I really hope you enjoy this little world of mine!_

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It was dark now and the streets of Thraben were mostly emptied. The townsfolk knew better than to tarry at night. They were huddled in their homes, their doors barred and their shutters clapped shut, praying for the security of dawn to reclaim the sky.

Sorin couldn't blame them, really, if _this _was the best defense the humans could mount against his kind.

He wasn't sure what he expected.

He could forgive them for some of their more endearing mistakes, like letting him stroll into Thraben without much question. He spewed a few lies about his travels—he was from a farming village in Kessig, visiting Gavony to scour for trade opportunities—and he was allowed in without any trouble. To their credit, no sane human would ever think that a vampire would use the city gates in the first place.

Less pardonable, though, was the mere notion that these walls would dissuade other vampires from ravaging the population within. They were high, but not nearly enough, and even if they reached into the sky it would matter little. Like Edgar himself, much of his grandfather's progeny had developed the gift of flight. It was a pursuit that never much interested Sorin. Since a particularly nasty spill as a boy, he held no high favor for heights.

The walls couldn't possibly hold them at bay, nor could the hissing torches and severed werewolf heads dotting them. During his brief evening in Thraben, Sorin had even heard whispers of something called the Blood Wall, a public execution site where captured vampires would be chained and left to starve to death. It was laughable. It was, at best, an invitation; a trial for his lavish kin to overcome for the hell of doing so. At worst, it was a death sentence.

He had been watching them for a while now, the sentry men and women who patrolled the city on horseback and on foot. From what he had observed from his rooftop perch, the city maintained a constant military presence along the perimeter. But it was now—in the throes of darkness, the moon high above them—that the best guards Thraben had to offer were on duty.

Sorin feared that even the most elite of these soldiers would be doomed against his kind. Vampires were stronger, faster, and more resilient; they outclassed humans in every way imaginable. It would take something far beyond human capability to stop the genocide his grandfather's negligence had put into motion.

And based on the high-pitched shriek that hit Sorin's ears, one of the sentries was about to learn that horrible truth.

He instantly recognized the girl from one of her earlier rounds. She was young, perhaps a teenager still, with wide blue eyes and a soft face. A vampire had attacked her, dug his pointed nails right through her leather bracer and into her flesh, tossing her off of her horse like an unwanted doll to the garbage dump

Her head hit the wall with a sickening crack, a weak cry escaping her lips as the scent of her blood flooded the cool air with sweetness. She would be lucky, Sorin thought, if the force of the hit had knocked her unconscious—or even killed her outright. Such an end would be more peaceful than the one the vampire had in store for her. His eyes were as red as the blood that dripped from her arm and puddled in her light blonde hair, signifying no hunger. This was a pleasure killing.

Sorin knew he had the power to stop it. It would take no effort at all, no more than the blink of an eye or a twitch of the fingers to use his magic and destroy the rakish vampire. It wasn't necessarily out of regard for the girl. Something had to be done about the vampires and their gluttony, and if he didn't have his grandfather's support… well, he would just have to start his own revolution.

"THALIA! STAY AWAY FROM HER!"

Her voice broke his thoughts just as he moved to leap from the rooftop. Another human had arrived, a captain by the looks of her decorated jacket. She was striking for her kind, with long, lightly-colored hair that echoed the beauty of the moon. There was ferocity swimming in her deep green eyes and strength apparent in her limbs. She was brave, foolishly so, but her recklessness intrigued him. She kept a small arsenal of weapons at her waistband, but reached for none of them. _Why?_ Sorin paused, his motion restrained. He might as well see what this woman was capable of.

She extended her hands and light filled her eyes, clouding them in a milky translucence. Her screaming had distracted the vampire, pulling him from his prey. He had turned on her, now, fangs bared and eyes frantic with bloodlust. In one nimble motion he vaulted towards the woman, but was met by an eruption of white from her palms.

The light was blinding. For a moment, it was as if the sun had dawned over that little alleyway, leaving the rest of the city in darkness. The radiance rescinded as quickly as it came, and when Sorin's eyes readjusted to the rapid change, his breath hung in his throat.

The vampire lay motionless in the street, dead or very close to it. Then, the woman with the moon-colored hair drew a long, thin sword from her scabbard and used the blade to relieve his shoulders of his ugly head.

It was uncommon enough for a human to square off against a vampire one-on-one. It was rare for a human to wound a vampire, since typically mortal wounds were inflicted before the human even registered the attack. But for a human to _kill _a vampire, especially with such ease? It was unheard of. Impossible. A fairytale that humans would tell their children in order to give them hope. And yet he had just witnessed it, a first in his many hundreds of years.

"Thalia!" the woman cried out, dropping her sword and rushing to the wounded girl's side. She sank to her knees, grasping her bloodied head in her hands. White magic formed at her fingertips once more, leaking into the surrounding air and bathing the girl in beautiful streaks of light. In all of his travels, Sorin had never witnessed magic as pure as this. It crept into her wounds, first the one to her head and then the yawning gash on her arm, filling them with light and sealing them shut.

"Wake up," she whispered, her voice breaking as the light faded from her fingers, the murkiness from her eyes. "Please wake up… Thalia, please…"

She was impossibly still for a moment, her breaths shallow and infrequent. Then, as the light magic met her veins and spread through her like wildfire, she slowly began to move. A few fingers twitched first, then her whole hand. Her lips quivered as she murmured something nonsensical. "A…Avy?" she whispered, her eyes opening slowly.

"Oh, Thalia," the older woman choked out. Like a mother comforting her child, she shushed the girl with a gentle voice, trying to hide the residual fear in her own. She swept her fingers feather light over her wounds. "Does it hurt anywhere?"

The one called Thalia winced as she pushed herself into a sitting position. The other woman—her older sister, if Sorin had to wager—curled an arm around her to help ease the process. "A little," she admitted weakly.

"I tried my best," she murmured, using one of her hands to brush stray hairs back behind her ears. "My healing magic isn't perfect yet. It mends the wounds, but it doesn't restore them fully. You're going to be sore for a little while."

Thalia nodded, a motion that seemed to make her head spin, given the grimace that scrunched her face. She squinted her eyes, struggling still to adjust to a world that was moving much faster than she was. When she caught sight of her attacker, beheaded and sprawled on the cobblestone but a few feet away, she gasped loudly. "Avacyn, did you—_How_?"

Avacyn smiled slightly, pressing a whisper of a kiss to her sister's forehead. "I had to protect you, runt. You scared me to death. Papa is going to kill me when he finds out you got hurt."

"Is she all right?" Sorin had descended from the rooftop without notice. He strode towards them, his stoic face painted with false concern. "I heard the screaming."

The sound of a stranger's voice made Avacyn lurch for one of the weapons at her waist. Her eyes searched him up and down, took in his empty hands and his expression, and deemed his presence a harmless one.

_If only she knew_.

He tried to ignore the swell of pride in his chest as he stepped over the pale corpse. "Not many can boast surviving a vampire attack," Sorin said coolly. "Though I suppose even fewer can take credit for killing one."

He produced a cloth from his heavy-looking cloak and crouched down to the sisters' level. He pressed the fabric to the back of Thalia's head, soaking up some of the blood that matted her fine hair. She gritted her teeth, a soft whine escaping her lips as the pressure shot through her head again. "There. Much better. We wouldn't want to attract any more of their kind, what with all of this mess," Sorin said, gesturing to the red-stained cobblestone.

"He's right. You need to get home," Avacyn said, her arms looping around her sister as she helped her gain her unsteady footing. Her eyes flashed up to the stranger as he rose to his full height, which was at least a head taller than her own.

With a lifetime lived in Thraben, how had she never seen him before? Surely she would remember the man with the strange amber eyes and the silvery hair. There was something about him. Something about the smoothness of his voice, something about the way the corners of her lips twitched when his gaze met hers. He was unlike any man she had ever met. "Thanks for your help," Avacyn said finally, returning his smile.

"I didn't really do anything," Sorin chuckled. "Would you like me to accompany you to your home?"

"We will be all right. It isn't terribly far from here."

With one arm firmly clasped around her sister's waist and the other gripping the arm that Thalia had laid across her shoulders, Avacyn started to walk away from him. She hesitated in her gait, glancing over her shoulder so that her eyes captured his once more. "I don't think I caught your name."

"Sorin," he offered with a shallow dip of his head.

"My name is Avacyn. And this is my sister, Thalia."

Sorin smiled his most genuine smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you both, despite the rather… unpleasant circumstances."

He watched them walk away until they disappeared from sight. With his boot heel he prodded at the body of his fallen kin, still slightly awed that a human had felled a vampire with such ease. Something about watching this woman, this Avacyn, gave him the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could save his home plane.

Sorin smirked to himself.

Perhaps staying in Innistrad wasn't such a bad idea after all.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Hi everybody! I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to get the fourth chapter uploaded. I was on vacation for a few days and I just started my summertime work hours, so things have been a little chaotic here lately. But now it's all settling and I will hopefully be updating on a steadier basis. Thank you all for your support and your continued readership! You all mean the world to me. For my fellow planeswalkers out there, I highly implore you to check out the stories of my friends laceandjace and zabufanfics. They are two amazingly talented writers as well as great friends, and their fics are breathtaking. If you are a Harry Potter fan, you should also go visit my friend jeka1215, who has an amazing story in the works called Brighter Days. I love these three girls so much and I promise you will love them, too! _

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"So what was his name again? Corin? Thorin?"

Avacyn rolled her eyes. Two days had gone by since the vampire attack that left her sister injured, but thankfully alive. Thalia had spent the past forty-eight hours confined to her bed, while Avacyn had devoted most of that time to trying to _keep _her there. Keeping her mouth shut was a different story entirely.

She sat cross-legged at the foot of her younger sister's bed, her fluffy white cat snuggled in the nook that her legs made. Her fingers knitted amongst Freya's snowy fur, and even without looking up to catch her sister's eyes, Avacyn could feel Thalia staring at her, awaiting her answer. "Sorin," she corrected finally.

Thalia smiled a mischievous smile. "Thank you for proving my point."

"Remembering the name of a man who helped save my little sister proves no point."

"He didn't help save me!" Thalia shot back. "Quit changing the subject!"

Avacyn sighed. "Your mouth never rests, does it?"

She would never admit that her sister's words bore a shred of truth. Had she gone even an hour without thinking of the man who tried to intervene that night? She spent mere moments with him and still she could remember everything about his silvery hair and his pale skin, and his strangely colored eyes that gleamed in the dark of night. How was it that she had never met Sorin before? Her life had been spent in the heart of Gavony, and yet she had never sighted him in her twenty-four years. Even if Thraben was the safest place left in Innistrad, few from the outlying provinces would risk the journey getting there, so where did he come from?

The real question, she realized, was she cared so much about the origins of a stranger. Why couldn't she free her mind from these thoughts of him? Why could she still hear his voice in her head? Avacyn shifted uncomfortably. Her face must have showed it, too, because Thalia was quick to revel in her sister's unease.

"What's wrong?" Thalia chimed with that singsong voice of hers. "Thinking about Sorin?"

Avacyn rolled her eyes. "No, of course not. You know I don't trust a man whose hair is prettier than mine."

Thalia smirked. "Sounds like you were paying more attention to him than you'd care to admit."

"I'm starting to think I should have let that vampire eat you. I'm sure if you talked enough he would have just staked himself."

"Why are you so afraid to get close to someone?" It came out more serious than Thalia intended. She regretted the words the second they left her lips, the second she saw Avacyn's shoulders go rigid and the laughter leave her face. "Avacyn—"

"Where did those flowers come from, anyway?" Avacyn interrupted her, motioning to the rose-filled vase on her sister's bedside table. Not the smoothest transition, but a transition nonetheless.

She studied the vase a moment longer. A large crack splintered the container's side. It took her a moment to remember its story, but when she did, a small smile ghosted her lips.

She was seven years old and she had come bolting down the stairs a little too quickly, and one of her swinging arms clipped the table the vase sat on, sending it flying to the floor with a magnificent crash. She was so terrified that her mother would be angry at her that she blamed the whole ordeal on Thalia. At the time, Avacyn's baby sister was no more than a year old and incapable of walking, much less streaking down the stairs and plowing right into a table. Though she obviously knew the truth, their mother pretended to go along with the story, and promised Avacyn that Thalia would get a firm talking to for her recklessness.

"You know Gabrian Arcos?" Thalia's voice dragged Avacyn back to reality. She nodded lightly.

"The butcher's son?"

Thalia smiled softly. "He brought them by this morning."

Avacyn smiled back at her, a real one this time. "Sounds like I might have to talk to this Gabrian," she teased, laughing lightly as Freya bumped her hand with her head. She rubbed dutifully behind the cat's ears and she purred happily in reply. "I'm not sure he's good enough for my runt of a sister."

"It's not like that!" Thalia seized one of the pillows from behind her head and hurtled it right at her sister's head, a move that Avacyn deflected with an easy swat of her hand.

"Or perhaps I should warn him about her fearsome pillow-throwing techniques."

"Perhaps you should shut up and focus on your love life with _Sorin_," Thalia snapped back.

Avacyn allowed herself to laugh this time. Moments like this with her sister reminded her of brighter days, of days where little fingers would pluck petals from the daisies that grew out back and they would tease each over about the men they would eventually marry.

She remembered her sister had a particularly crushing fondness for a young boy that used to sell sweets in his parents' bakery. And as recently as a year ago, Thalia had teased her about a man who trained alongside her in the militia. He had decided to leave the supposed safeness of Thraben to serve in Nephalia, Innistrad's westernmost province. It was there that the Stromkirk vampires tended their human cattle and Jeleva, a particularly foul blood drinker with a penchant for draining the psyches of the plane's most powerful minds, posed a constant threat to the citizens that remained free.

Avacyn frowned faintly. She had to wonder if either of them were still alive.

"Hey, what do you think of this?" Thalia asked, and Avacyn was grateful for the distraction. The younger Blair used her good arm to retrieve a leather-bound book from beside the vase of roses. She peeled back its yellowing pages to reveal several roughly drawn sketches, all of the same symbol. It was a stem that splintered into two wings, reminding Avacyn of the angels of lore, or perhaps even a…

"A heron," she said aloud, and Thalia smiled wide in confirmation. Avacyn took the book from her sister's hand and studied the drawings closer, smoothing one of her fingers over the curves of the emblem.

"I've seen them every day since I've been cooped up in here," Thalia said.

Avacyn smiled. "They have always been one of my favorite animals. They're beautiful."

"I think they should be our symbol," Thalia chirped, watching her sister eagerly. "For the militia. We need something that unites us."

"It's beautiful, Thalia," Avacyn said softly.

Maybe she was right; maybe the army needed a banner to fly and a flag to stand underneath. And what could provide better symbolism than the heron? They were majestic creatures, the closest thing Innistrad had left to angels. They flew underneath the glow of the moon, at the time of night when things seemed the most hopeless and dire. Yet they returned home every morning, like blue-feathered phoenixes rising from the ashes of a slowly burning world. "I think it's a great idea."

"Avacyn?" Thalia asked. Her voice was a note lower this time. A solemn expression took up space where an oversized smile had only just. "Do you think the wall is working?"

Avacyn's jaw tightened and for a moment her eyes fluttered to a close. She opened her mouth to speak but found herself cut off by her sister's voice, strangely and uncomfortably stern.

"Don't lie to me."

Avacyn sighed. "There have been a few more attacks since yours, four last night and three the night before it. The werewolves are random as usual," she paused, shifting slightly. Freya looked annoyed at her owner's movement. "The vampires are more focused. They have only attacked members of the guard. They see the wall as a challenge, I think, and now they aim to tear the army apart."

"The others who were attacked, are they…" Thalia's voice trailed off awkwardly. Avacyn shook her head so slightly that only the swaying of her long hair told Thalia that she had even moved at all. Even in silence, her big sister knew exactly what she was thinking.

"It isn't your fault, Thalia," Avacyn whispered, reaching a hand out to rest on her leg. "We can't lose faith now."

Thalia opened her mouth to speak, but her words were lost on her tongue as the sound of brass knocking against wood echoed through the otherwise empty house. The sisters exchanged confused glances.

"Did papa lock himself out again?" Avacyn asked, and Thalia shrugged. Mikaeus kept the doors and windows of their home heavily bolted and barred, and his goal of securing the house from the outside world had once or twice resulted in him or one of his girls being stuck out there. Luckily, it had never happened at a time that was incredibly dire. "Stay here."

Thalia shot her sister a 'no kidding' look and limply raised her hurt arm, a gesture that made Avacyn giggle slightly. She scooted Freya out of her lap and pushed herself up off of the bed, strolling out of the bedroom and swiftly down the stairs. She eased the heavy wooden bar away from the front door and twisted the knob, opening it wide.

A man stood on the other side, a dark hood pulled over his pale face even as the hot light of day beat down on him. Avacyn felt her breath hang in her throat as he gave her a small bow.

"Avacyn."

"Sorin?"


End file.
